


On Your Right

by Reiven



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Sam Wilson, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiven/pseuds/Reiven
Summary: Sam’s father used to tell him;‘Never meet your idol; they’ll only disappoint.’Admittedly, Captain America had indeed been an idol of his growing up. Steve Rogers on the other hand, turned out to be even more than that. Sometimes Sam wishes his father were alive to meet Steve and be proven that he isn’t always right.





	On Your Right

Sam Wilson was never an exceptionally finicky individual. Sure he liked to look good. Sure he liked to smell good – the ladies were always appreciative of a nice smelling man, it was a proven fact (he proved it himself). Sure he was particular about his orange juice being unsweetened and maybe he had a specific way of taking his toast (slightly on the burnt side but not completely black). The first crunch of a perfect toast first thing in the morning would always set him up for the rest of the day. There was nothing that could spoil Sam’s mood more than starting the day with limp, chewy bread. _That_ was also a proven fact.

But being in the army really put things in perspective and made him reevaluate everything he thought was important in life, because over there at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was how much of yourself you were willing to put out there to protect your brothers. Because at the end of the day, when you were holding a brother in your arms, slowly watching the life seeping from his eyes, it didn’t matter what kind of person he was or who he used to be; it didn’t matter how he took his coffee or whether he preferred dogs or cats or gerbils; it didn’t matter what he believed in or which part of the neighbourhood he came from; the only thing that mattered was trying to keep him alive to see the next minute. Because over there, the only thing that separated the living from the dead was just sheer dumb luck.

For some reason, Sam seemed to have the dumbest luck of them all.

Too bad Riley didn’t.

The most difficult part of coming home was looking into the eyes of the families of the men who didn’t and hear the resounding questions they couldn’t bring themselves to ask:

_Why?_

_Why were you so lucky?_

_Why did you live?_

_Why did you get to come home?_

The most difficult part of living is having to ask yourself those questions _every. single. day_.

Sam lives with the constant guilt over surviving hanging over his head but he powers on because he has to. Because he owes it to his brothers whose lives were snuffed out too early.

The day he met Steve Rogers, it was like fate, or karma, or some sort of freaky providence bullshit like that, but then again, knowing his history, more likely it was just sheer dumb luck.

He wasn’t even meant to be out there running that morning.

The day Steve Rogers showed up on his doorstep looking more than a little worse for wear was the day Sam realized that it was most likely destiny.

He grew up on the stories of Steven Grant Rogers, the story of Captain America and his Howling Commandos and the battles they fought and won; the enemies they defeated and catastrophes they prevented. Often times he wondered if he knew more about the man than he knew about himself. He thought he’d heard all the tales and all the stories of the great American hero to set him up for life, but actually meeting the man, meeting the legend first hand – getting to know him, shaking his hand and seeing the real person behind the shield – Steve turned out to be more than what Sam ever expected him to be.

His father used to say to him, _‘Never meet your idol, son. They’ll only disappoint ya,’_ and deep down, a small part of Sam kept waiting for the disappointment to come. He kept waiting for Captain America to mess up, to stumble and prove to Sam that the stories about him had indeed been exaggerated, that the idolatry he received outside his achievements in war was undeserved.

But Steve Rogers turned out to be exactly the person Sam heard about in the stories; exactly the person Sam wanted him to be – _and more_. He turned out to be the person Sam would proudly follow to the ends of the earth.

\--

Behind every great man is a great woman who lifts him up and pushes him to become the person he is. But Sam also believes that behind a great man is also a greater man _he_ idolizes. A man whose coattails he keeps reaching out to touch and whose shadow he lives in proudly and in the case of Steve Rogers, that man is James Buchanan Barnes.

No one who knows the story of Captain America, the super soldier, the first Avenger; _the hero_ , doesn’t also know about the man who was Steve Rogers’s idol, his best friend and greatest companion, and that includes Sam.

Bucky Barnes however – or rather, the man who turned out to be The Winter Soldier; the myth, the ghost story; the person who doesn’t even really exist and who was never meant to exist – he is an entirely different entity all together but Sam thinks now what he thought then: if he’s important enough for Captain America, he’s more than important enough for Sam Wilson – not that it’ll stop him from saying what’s on his mind or airing his concern regarding the person who may or may not even be Bucky Barnes anymore. At least, not the Bucky Barnes that Steve Rogers knew and loved.

So Sam fights.

He fights a war that isn’t even his, but it’s the Captain’s and that’s good enough for him.

He fights battles against forces he thought he’d left behind in the nightmare but finds that nightmares have a way of finding those whose fear they can sense.

Sam Wilson thought he was beyond fear, after everything he did, after everything he lived through, but perhaps the better way to say it is that he’d become accustomed to living in constant state of fear that it’s become almost second nature.

Fighting on the other hand is almost instinctive; muscle memory from the countless hours he spent trying to keep himself and his brothers alive. The feel of the wind whipping across his face is comforting, like the embrace of a forgotten friend. The sight of the buildings and treetops below slowly disappearing until it’s become little more than specks in the distance is like a vision of a past life he thought he’d left behind him.

The day Riley died was the day Sam thought he’d lost his passion. After all, if he couldn’t even keep his best friend alive, how could he hope to do the same for faceless people he doesn’t know and will never even meet?

The day Steve Rogers showed up out of the blue, it was like the fire rekindled inside him, perhaps even fiercer and stronger than it had ever been before.

He realized at some point, watching Steve stare out into the distance lost in thought or memories of a past life, that if the respect and fondness he feels for Steve Rogers was even close to how Steve feels about Bucky, then it would be fool’s errand to get between the two, and Sam might have had his streak of dumb luck, but he definitely ain’t no fool.

So he asks himself one simple question: what would Sam Wilson do?

What would he do if he were in the Captain’s place and the coattails he’s desperately reaching out for belongs to Steve? Would he let anyone or anything stop him from getting to where he needed to be (by Steve’s side) and do what he needed to do (watch his six)? The answer to that question is a tried and proven _hell naw_. It becomes a much easier choice to make from there on out. After all, as he’d said to Fury, he does what Steve does only slower.

He respects Fury and he respects Nat like he respects all the men and women who have their back that day in battle, but ultimately Fury and Nat are both spies, they aren’t soldiers like him and Cap, even Bucky, so they can’t really truly understand what it means to have someone’s back; not the way he does, not the way Steve does and not the way Bucky did once upon a time. They don’t embody the single most important rule of the military:

_You never leave a brother behind._

At the end of the day, despite his personal feelings about The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes is still a brother to Steve just as Steve has become a brother to him, so that’s really all the objective he needs. He realizes going into it; the moment he leapt off the ledge and felt the familiar gush of wind in his face as the mechanical whirring of the wings behind him extended past his shoulders, that there is a chance that neither of them are going to make it back alive. Not that it’s a deal breaker for him, but he knows how adamant Steve is in bringing The Winter Soldier in _alive_ , whether or not it will cost him his own life. He knows that at the end of that day, either both of them would make it out with their lives or Steve would lose his at the hands of the one person most precious to him.

Sam is definitely not okay with the prospect of that but at the end of the day, it’s Steve’s choice as it had been his and Riley’s to take on that ill-fated mission that day. He knows that there’s nothing he could have done to change Steve’s mind.

He knows all this in his heart, but then again, it’s a hell of a lot easier to convince himself he’d done the right thing when he isn’t looking down at Steve’s lifeless body lying by the bank of the Potomac surrounded by a pool of water stained red with his blood.

It’s a lot easier to pretend his hands aren’t stained with blood when he isn’t looking at Captain America dying right before his very eyes.

It’s Natasha’s panicked shout that shakes him out of his reverie, though everything after the both of them land in a crouch on the sodden ground a few feet away from Steve’s unconscious figure becomes just a blurred, jumbled mess of half thoughts and fear and the sound of his voice saying a prayer inside his heart.

Steve’s alive. Breathing at least, and for a moment that’s all that matters.

Sam even manages to find a second to gather his thoughts into something coherent before he spots the imprints of the heavy boots surrounded by drying droplets in the sand near the tree line just a few feet away. They’re leading away from where Steve is currently lying deathly still on the riverbank with Natasha’s hands working frantically to keep his blood from further spilling out of his beaten body. Her eyes wide and almost panicked, yelling through the intercoms at Fury who’s still trying to land the chopper one handed in an area slowly being overrun by uniformed bodies. Sam hopes to god that they’re not some of the bad guys Steve had been talking about.

Content with the sight of Natasha’s attention being focused completely on Steve, Sam manages to inconspicuously make his way towards the tree line, unnoticed and casually kicking dirt onto the tracks to hide them from unsavory eyes – no matter which side of the battle they had been on. He knows that’s what Steve would have wanted and that’s the only thing that matters.

In hindsight, perhaps the blurred, jumbled headspace isn’t the worst place to be in. It sure as hell beats watching doctors trying frantically to stabilize a badly injured Captain America. _Injured Captain America_ must be some sort of oxymoron because Sam didn’t think it’s something even possible (even if it isn’t, it should be). But then again, he’d come to know Steve as more than just Captain America, as something more than the legend of America’s greatest hero. He’d come to know the great Captain as just Steve and the Steve he got to know was just human underneath it all and just like other humans, he can be broken just like the rest of them. It might take a lot more to hurt him, but he feels pain, he gets hurt and he can have his heart broken just like everyone else.

That’s exactly what Sam thinks is the root cause of his ailment beyond the physical injuries: _broken heart syndrome_ , his mom would have said, because according to the doctors, he isn’t healing the way he’s supposed to, especially after the surgery to remove the bullets still riddling his body and the wounds that were already starting to heal over them. The one in his abdomen had ricocheted and embedded itself in his lung, but that isn’t even the worse of his injuries. The Winter Soldier had done a hell of a lot of damage and from the looks of it, Sam would put money on Steve just lying down and taking it, the self-sacrificing idiot. Sam doesn’t think he’s ever met a dumber, more altruistic, selfless person in his life, nor one he respects and looks up to as much as a soldier or as a human being and a friend.

Everyone deserves a Steve Rogers in their life and that’s a fucking proven fact.

Sam watches Steve through the window of the ICU, freshly out of surgery, lying among the crisp white sheets in the hospital surrounded by more machines than there was any right to be.

His injures are already starting to heal, quicker than an average human like Sam who can still feel the aches and stiffness and remnants of Rumlow’s double-crossing filth all over his person, but slower than his average healing rate, or so Sam is told. But it doesn’t change how unnerving it is to look at Steve so still and lifeless, watching the rise as fall of his beaten chest with every pump of the ventilator he’s hooked up to, or the beeping of the heart monitor being the only sign of life.

Sam pulls out a seat by Steve’s bedside and drops heavily into it, releasing a long exhale as he leans back.

In addition to the bullet wounds, the internal damage they caused, the internal damage caused by the fall on top of the fractured spine and nearly all his ribs on the right side – no doubt a result of taking full force punches from the Winter Soldier’s metal arm; the severe concussion – likely also caused by the aforementioned metal arm; broken hip and collarbone and dislocated shoulder and elbow, it’s the miracle of science that Steve is even alive and breathing at all, despite the latter currently being through a tube.

Sam’s not a sappy man by any definition of the word – he’s more likely to laugh at the sad scenes in movies rather than cry or admit that it affected him emotionally in any way. But he feels rather sappy when he reaches over to cover Steve’s limp hand with his, grasping onto it tight.

“Hey man,” he says, leaning in slightly as if his whispering into Steve’s ear would make any difference considering the man is currently completely lost to the world. “You take your time, Cap, heal up all nice and pretty. You know the girls love a man with a scar, but not too many though. Just… just get better Steve. We’re all counting on you to pull through,” he says. “Even Fury’s been all agitated lately, stomping around demanding Hill to tell the doctors to _‘do everything they goddamn well can to fix you up’_ and _‘what was the point of spending all that damn time in med school if they’re only going to sit around with their thumbs up their asses useless?’”_ Sam does the last bit with an over exaggerated Fury impersonation that he knows Steve would appreciate. “Them doctors should be relieved that he’s officially dead and can’t come to chew their asses out himself.”

Steve doesn’t stir. His fingers don’t twitch. His perfect lashes don’t flutter like a clichéd scene in one of those soap operas that Sam _definitely_ doesn’t watch. He just… _exists_ in that moment in that bed, still alive but at the same time barely alive. It’s unnerving and bittersweet and Sam kind of wants to go back in time for round two in kicking all of HYDRA in their Nazi reptilian hiney.

The strange thing is, he almost has to force himself to consider the Winter Soldier responsible in any way for Steve’s grave injuries even though he’s the one who inflicted them all. As far as Sam is concerned, Bucky is just as much a victim as the people he hurt and killed along the way.

“We got your back,” he adds finally with a gentle pat on the back of Steve’s hand. Him and Nat and Fury and Hill and whatever and whoever’s left of SHIELD and the agents that didn’t end up being turncoats or secret HYDRA agents – it’s a rather pathetic amount if he had to be honest, but like his mom used to tell him, ‘ _beggars better not be complaining,’_ and that is definitely something he isn’t going to do.

Sitting by Steve’s bedside in that ICU, that’s what it first happens. Sam hates to sound so cliché saying it but it’s almost like a chill running up his spine; an ominous feeling that punches him straight through the gut and starts twisting. The hospital is crawling with agents – Sam’s sure there’s approximately two agents for every one medical personal walking the hallways of the hospital floor Steve is on. But the fact that he’d somehow gotten so close that Sam can even feel his presence is testament to the stealth and threat that is the Winter Soldier.

For some reason Sam doesn’t feel the need to air his concern to anyone else, not even Nat when she comes to visit later that morning.

The feeling disappears as quickly as it comes and Sam files the feeling away in the back of his mind to be reexamined at a later date.

\--

It’s three solid days of keeping vigil by Steve’s bedside, watching people coming and going past the door of Steve’s room (most of them so obviously armed to the teeth) and coming to the realization that besides Nat and Hill who stop by on the regular, a pretty looking blond agent whose name is apparently a number, and a handful of people who’d gotten clearance to visit, he and Nat are probably the closest thing to family that Steve actually has. Staying by his side was an easy decision to make after that.

Well… _closest_ aside from Bucky, which brings Sam to the most pressing matter at hand.

Sam has a lot of mixed feelings about Bucky, or Barnes or the Winter Soldier – whatever designation he’s going by these days – but ultimately, he did pull Steve out from the Potomac after the helicarrier crash which is the assumption Sam settled on after many days of mulling it over, so he’d bet his massive flat-screen TV that he’s likely going by something between Bucky and Barnes instead of the Winter Soldier. Plus there hadn’t been any news reports about a metal-armed man wreaking havoc on the streets of Washington since the fall of HYDRA so Sam thinks it’s the safest bet.

Speaking of Bucky; the ominous feeling he’d gotten that first day Steve was admitted, though it had lessened considerably since then never really completely went away. Sam knows that he wasn’t imaging the feel of eyes boring in the back of his skull when he was having coffee at the cafeteria the other day. He only brings the issue back up because he’s currently feeling a concentrated amount of ominous air swirling around him like a colony of bats (he hates bats).

He knows exactly what to do without having to think too long about it. So he folds the newspaper he’d been pretending to read and lets out an overly exaggerated moan of pleasure as he stretches the kinks out of his joints when he gets to his feet.

If his words to Steve, letting him know that he’s right outside getting some fresh air is said a little too loudly and a little too pointedly, it’s definitely not intentional, after all Sam is well known for being understated and unobtrusive. He relieves the reluctant guards outside Steve’s hospital room for a couple of hours, bringing up the rank that he doesn’t have. But being a person who’d been seen by most of the hemisphere on cable news fighting alongside Captain America, even snatching him out of the air when he was free falling to earth (meaning: saving his ass) gave his orders more weight than any rank every would. Plus Sam Wilson can talk himself into and out of pretty much anything.

Once the floor is cleared of uniforms, Sam lets out a pointed cough, leaning one shoulder against the wall, back to Steve’s room and laments out loud about nothing in particular. He says a lot without saying anything, his aims is just to create a lot of background noise and keep the attention on him.

He doesn’t even know why he trusts Bucky so much with Steve’s safety, especially with the Captain in such a vulnerable state, but he can’t find it in him not to. Somehow, he knows in his gut that he doesn’t have to fear Steve being injured by the Winter Soldier ever again. People who hurt Steve on the other hand have a lot to fear from _both_ the Winter Soldier and Sam.

He doesn’t know how long he stands out there complaining about the reheated taco he had that morning giving him gas, before he just senses that Steve is alone in the room once again. He turns just in time to see the tailcoats of a shadow disappearing around the bend at the end of the hall and for some reason, he feels satisfied, perhaps even happy to be able to give Bucky that one moment of privacy with Steve.

Even Steve looks slightly better when Sam reenters his room a few seconds later. Somehow he looks a little less burdened, a little less despondent even, than he did when Sam stepped out. If he had doubts about whether he was doing the right thing, he has none anymore.

Nat drops by later that day and Sam has a feeling that somehow she just _knows_ what had transpired. But instead of bringing it up, she just plants a kiss on Steve’s cheek and takes a seat on his right before telling them about Fury – or rather, their buddy Nick; one couldn’t really tell which walls were sporting ears it shouldn’t be these days – and Hill and some unfortunate HYDRA agent that had been dumb enough to tell his plans to, quote-unquote, _finish the job_ assassinating Captain America to an undercover SHIELD agent. Nat didn’t elaborate further though she looked like she really wanted to but Sam can already imagine the carnage that followed. Everyone had already been on edge because of the secret Nazi death group growing right under their noses, but the fact that the Captain ended up being so injured in the process, that was the thing that really pushed everything right over. HYDRA agents who were dumb enough to even mention Steve Rogers’s name usually ended not living to see the very next second.

\--

Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man is already on its third repeat that morning when Sam hears the best three words he ever wanted to hear in his life.

“ _On your left.”_

The words are spoken barely above a whisper and the voice is hoarse with exhaustion and pain, but it’s the most beautiful sound Sam has ever heard.

Before he can respond or even think of anything to reply, Steve is out like a light once again. But this time, Sam feels so much more hopeful that he did a second ago. He really does miss Steve a whole lot. It’s a strange thing to think when he’s only really known the guy for barely a week, _if that_ , but it truly does feel like he’s known the guy all his life.

In a way, perhaps he has.

The ominous feeling doesn’t return again and Sam wonders whether Bucky actually ended up leaving town after coming to see Steve. But knowing what he does about Bucky (as little as that may be) Sam highly doubts it. If he were Bucky, he probably wouldn’t let Steve out of his sights until he knows for sure that he’s in the clear. The fact that he stopped coming by the hospital is probably because he knows that Sam knows he’d been by, which makes him taking up Sam’s unspoken offer to be alone with Steve all the more flattering. It’s testament to the bond the two men used to have that Bucky managed to overcome decades of brainwashing and torture just for Steve.

Sam kind of gets a bit sentimental just thinking about it which is not his modus operandi at all. He has to drop and do a couple of pushups to get his head back in the game after that.

\--

Sam is there when Steve wakes up a second time and is finally conscious and coherent; even managing to stay awake for more than five minutes. He doesn’t even seem aware of Sam’s presence for the first few minutes as he regards his surroundings curiously. His glassy heavy-lidded eyes eventually settling on the sight of Sam’s ginning face at his side.

The small smile he gets in return is absolutely dazzling.

“Hey, Cap,” Sam says, leaning in closer. “How you feelin’?”

It takes Steve a moment to swallow the dry, cotton ball feeling in his throat before he manages a weak croak that Sam deciphers as a similar – “ _Hey_ ,” in return. He lifts his hand to make a so-so motion that Sam accepts without question.

“That great huh? I have to say you look it too,” he adds with a grin.

The small curve at Steve’s lips curls into something closer to his usual smile and for a split second it seems like he’s about to laugh until hacking coughs wreck his beaten body instead. His eyes clench shut in pain and Sam is immediately on his feet, reaching over to rub his back gently until he finally calms down, breathing hard.

“ _T’hnks_ ,” he croaks out after a while, taking deep measured breaths and allowing the oxygen to ease past his abused windpipe.

Sam reaches for the glass of water on the side table, lifting the straw up to Steve’s dry, cracked lips and waits patiently as he takes slow, measured sips of the cool water.

“Don’t get too worked up, man. You’ve been out like a light for days. Even _you_ and your special jacked up super genes wouldn’t be able to just spring back from that.”

Sam’s words obviously spark something inside Steve’s mind because all of a sudden his eyes seem clearer. “How long?” he asks, taking a moment to inhale before adding in and even hoarser voice; “You saved me?”

“About three days,” Sam says immediately, “A rough three days I might add. I’d appreciate if you don’t do that to us again, Cap.” Sam sees the slightly sheepish look on Steve’s face and flashes him a grin to ease his concern. “As for your second question, as much as I’d love to take credit for the save, no, it wasn’t me. We just found you by the bank of the Potomac after the helicarrier went down, taking two thirds of SHIELD command center with it I might add. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Sam watches Steve’s face as he mulls intently over the question. “I remember…  beams goin’ down and… Buck –” His eyes become downcast almost immediately at the mention of the name. “We were fighting and… and he was punching me but then – he stopped,” he stops for a moment to catch his breath. “I remember falling and hitting the water then – then waking up here.”

Sam takes his time before responding. He doesn’t want to raise Steve’s hope too much by dropping _that_ bomb, but at the same time seeing how miserable he currently looks doesn’t feel too great either – or at all.

“Actually…” Sam starts hesitantly, “Just so you know, I have no actual proof of this actually happening and I don’t want to get your hopes up too much or anything, but… but I think that _he_ was the one who pulled you out of the river,” he says without saying the name outright but knowing that he doesn’t have to. His tone was intended to be indicative enough. He watches as Steve turns his eyes up to look into his, the glimmer of hope on his face making him seem much younger than his age. “I’m pretty sure he saved your life.”

Steve doesn’t answer for a long while though his eyes remain locked onto Sam’s, as if he were looking for any sign that Sam may be wrong or intentionally lying. Sam may be a lot of things, but he’s as genuine a person as they come and he knows it shows on his face. No one (besides Steve) has a face more sincere than he does. That too is a proven fact.

“How do you know?” Steve asks finally, as if he’d been wracking his brain to come up with a coherent response or relevant question about the unexpected turn of events. Sam thinks Steve looks equal parts hopeful and skeptical though seemingly wanting to lean more on the side of hope as he always does.

But then again, this is the man who met his dead best friend after he’d murdered a bunch of people, caused the city immeasurable amounts of damages and had almost beaten him to a pulp and was absolutely certain that he wasn’t beyond saving.

Sam equal parts respected him for that and wanted to smack him upside the head for being so naïve. But that’s what makes Steve, _Steve_ and Sam wouldn’t change him for all the untrusting fools in the world.

“Call it intuition,” he says, “Plus I found a bunch of boot tracks leading away from where we found you on the riverbank. So unless another boot wearing, Super Soldier strength good Samaritan happened to be on the scene and pulled you out, I’d bet my hard earned bucks on it being Bucky – pun absolutely intended.”

Steve is completely silent after that and Sam lets him have the moment to truly process everything. He knows it’s a lot to take in. Steve doesn’t say much after that, but if the little wistful little smile on his face and the faint glistening sheen of tears Sam can see out of the corner of his eye is any indication, Sam knows Steve is happy.

And a happy Steve makes for a happy Sam which is definitely good for everyone.

\--

Steve doesn’t talk much for the rest of his stay in the hospital, which just ends up being that one day after he wakes up; a pretty amazing feat for someone who just spent the better part of a week in a coma. It’s really rather astounding the things science that can achieve – that and the power of love because Sam knows for a fact that Bucky being the one to save him (and coming to see him while he was in the hospital) made all the difference in the acceleration of Steve’s already accelerated healing abilities.

Mostly he just sits around and broods and Sam gives him all the space he needs. Bucky doesn’t show up again and Steve is disappointed though not really surprised.

Fury passes on his messages through Nat but Steve seems less interested than usual by whatever Fury has to say and Sam can’t say that he blames the guy. He wouldn’t trust Fury with his bird and he doesn’t even own one.

They’re all packed and ready to leave by the time the doctors officially sign off on Steve’s discharge papers. Nat is downstairs waiting in the car despite Steve’s insistence that they needn’t trouble themselves and that he could get by on his own. Both Nat and Sam told him firmly that his opinion on the matter was neither wanted nor needed.

“Hey, Sam.”

Sam tears his eyes away from the hot nurse across the hall who is definitely making eyes at him to turn to look at Steve making the face he usually does when he feels unnecessarily responsible for something. “What’s up? You’re making that face again, Cap.”

“What face – never mind. I just… I guess I just wanted to say thanks,” Steve says. “Thanks for… _everything_.” Steve doesn’t elaborate but he doesn’t have to. The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice says everything he means in his heart.

Sam’s own heart swells a few sizes at the sight. “No thanks needed, Cap,” he says simply because it’s the absolute truth. “I’d do exactly the same thing all over again if you asked.”

“You know I wouldn’t have asked if I had a choice. But… I couldn’t have asked for a better ally or a greater friend,” he says.

“I’m flattered to be able to consider myself as one of those. And dare I say, despite my own misgivings about the guy, I dare say you’re not lacking in that department anyway.”

Steve doesn’t answer but his little wistful smile says everything.

They stop for Mexican food on the way home, just him, Steve and Nat, and Sam couldn’t hope for better company than that.

**The End**


End file.
